


Lola

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor, Song fic, that's what I said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PRE-MTMTE AU wherein: Misfire's been taken in by the Scavengers and for his initiation, they go out to celebrate. In a seedy bar, Misfire is delighted to pull a handsome mech with a moustache - but that mech is, as you say, More Than Meets The Eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lola

**Author's Note:**

> I met her in a club down in old Soho  
> Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry-cola  
> See-oh-el-aye cola

 The neon sign hanging above the entrance to the bar read ‘ _Soho_ ’ the Scavengers had come to the _Old_ district of the planet where the parties were more in tune with their tastes. _Their Tastes_ being: minimal security coverage, cheap drinks and company that carried similar bounties on their heads - therefore, no one would be included to do anything too offensive or risk the intervention of the planet’s police. 

The Scavengers had come to _Soho_ to officiate their acceptance of their merry crew’s newest arrival, his initiation began now. 

Misfire stared at the tall glass the bartender had just placed in front of him. It was full to the brim with a fizzing liquid that his database couldn’t identify. It was also green. Misfire had never tasted anything _green_ before. The other Scavengers crowded around him, slapping their hands against his back they egged him on. 

“Down it! Down it! _Down it!_ ” They cheered, with the exception of Spinister who’d taken to repetitively beating his fist against the bar instead. 

Misfire laughed to cover his nervousness. Since his bumbling introduction to the Scavengers, he’d acted the part of a grand, fearless character. Faced with a challenge, Misfire felt the prickle of trepidation buzz in his circuits. When his fingers wrapped around the drink, he dammed the journey of many streams of condensation trickling down the cold glass. 

“Go on!” Krok shook Misfire’s shoulder, “Get us started.”

With a deep breath, Misfire took the plunge. He pressed the glass to his lips and cool liquid spilt into his mouth. The fizz tingled on Misfire’s tongue - a curious sensation. The bubbles broke against the back of his throat and were gulped rapidly into his tanks. Misfire dimmed his optics and wrinkled his nose, trying to decide whether or not he liked the feeling while around him his friends sang,

“We like to drink with Misfire,  
‘Coz Misfire is our mate!

And when we drink with Misfire,

He downs it all in…8  
…7  
…6

…5”-

The last of the glass drained into Misfire’s body, around him, the others erupted with cheers and Krok was already calling in another round from the bartender. 

“How’d you find that?” Crankcase threw his arm across Misfire’s shoulder and rocked their bodies together precariously. Misfire wobbled on his stool and rubbed his lips to stifled a few bubbles of fizz repeating on him. 

“S’not bad, I’ve had worse,” Misfire said, despite the strange burn creeping through his tanks. 

Next, a bowl - no, not a bowl, half a disco ball plated in shining silver squares, filled with another unidentifiable liquid bearing a strange hue - blue. 

Krok stabbed three straws into the centre of the bowl and used them to stir the liquid inside. 

“Oops, keep forgetting there’s four of us now,”

“It’s alright,” Misfire said as he slid gently off the bar stool, “I’ll fetch my own, don’t finish all that without me,” but secretly, as Misfire slunk further down the bar to collect an extra straw for himself, he hoped they’d finish it - or at least most of it. His tank was unsettled and to rush more High Grade inside of him might prove disastrous. 

Misfire petted his middle. The bubbles popping inside kept pushing hiccups into his throat. It was still early, at this rate, he’d be unconscious before the clock struck twelve and all of the spontaneously made claims Misfire had made about his character would be thrown into question. He may have oversold himself a bit, but when you’re trying to secure the protection of a nomad group of hardened Decepticons, what else was Misfire supposed to do?

He’d misjudged the Scavengers, they weren’t nearly as scary as their initial pretence led Misfire to believe. A bit erratic and their methods of survival were gruesome, but they weren’t dangerous. At first they’d tried to detach themselves from Misfire, fearing him to be a hindrance to their way of life. Misfire raced into proving them wrong by any means necessary, even if that meant _slightly_ editing the truth. 

Misfire was engrossed in thought, operating automatically, after seeking out a box of straws standing on the bar, Misfire squeezed between to bulky alien ladies with tusks growing from their lips.He was made to stretch for the straw and accidentally swept his fingers across the white hands of someone else, who was also reaching for the box. 

“Sorry!” Misfire flinched back. The other hand paused and Misfire’s gaze travelled up the owner’s arm to their face. Their eyes met. 

A green face place, red optics and one phenomenally strange feature protruding over their upper lip - a moustache. 

“That’s alright,” the mech spoke in a dark, low voice and Misfire was stunned. Surprised to see another Cybertronian and equally curious of their voice. It was a big voice. It did not suit a frame as slight as the mech standing beside him. 

While Misfire was stunned and immobilised, the other mech took two straws from the box, one he kept for himself, the other he handed to Misfire, whose fingers showed some flimsy strength and accepted the straw while stuttering thanks. 

The mech with the moustache nodded at him. His lips gave a small twitch and the moustache moved as well. 

“No problem.” 

They separated and Misfire returned to the Scavengers, who’d luckily drained most of the drink from the disco ball. 

“I just saw the strangest thing.” Misfire announce on his return. 

“Oh yeah?” Krok and Crankcase lifted their heads, Spinister continued to suck on his straw until he was slurping the dregs out concentrated fluid out of the bowl. 

“Yeah…” Misfire slipped back onto the stool, “It was a mech…with a moustache. He’s sitting over there.”

Misfire gestured down the bar and the others turned to look. Even Spinister lifted his brows. They stared until they spotted the mech through the crowd. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink that shouldn’t really have been drunk with a straw. They made a few cooing sounds of interest. 

“I recognise that,” Krok began, “It’s a mark of a noble house. He must be a descendant of someone important.”

“What’s he doing all the way out here?”

Krok answered Misfire’s question with a shrug. 

“Dunno, he keeps glancing over here though. I think he’s giving you the eye.” 

Misfire swivelled on the stool, stretched both arms high over his head and then relaxed against the bar. 

“Well, can’t say I blame him, always wondered what kissing a moustache felt like.”

“Have you really?”

“Nope.”

After a moment wasted by looking smug, Misfire twisted his body and jabbed his straw into the last drop of high grade sitting at the bottom of the disco ball. It’s vivid blue colour had been diluted by ice.

“What’s this taste like?” he asked before trying it for himself. 

“Cherry cola.”

Around them, the lights in the room darkened suddenly. A stage at the centre of the floor was lit up by a spotlight and a singer carrying a guitar stepped out from behind many red curtains. He stepped up to a preset microphone and strummed the instrument. 

“Boo!” Spinister didn’t mutter, “Put some real music on!” 

Crankcase slapped Spinister across the back of his head. 

“Quiet! You’ll get us kicked out again.” 

“But this hasn’t got any beat. You can’t dance to this.” 

A deep voice disagreed with Spinister’s statement. 

“I beg to differ.”

Heat flushed the speaker’s face when he interrupted. Though he bowed his helm, showing a little insecurity, the mech with the green face and moustache kept his sight steadily on Misfire. He’d walked right into the middle of their group and asked,

“Would you like to dance?” While holding out his hand to Misfire. 

Everyone stared, included Misfire, who sucked particularly hard on the straw and gulped down the last drop of high grade left in the disco ball. He was trying to buy himself some time. The offer left him flustered and his loyalty to an evening cultivating relationships with his new team came under threat. 

To relieve Misfire of any pressure, Krok made the decision for him. He patted Misfire so hard on the back that Misfire flinched off the stool. His grabbed at the small, moustached mech for balance and held his hand, in turn he’d accepted the mech’s offer and was led onto the dance floor. As they walked away, Misfire cast a nervous smile back at the bar. 

The Scavengers offered their newest recruit a cheeky thumbs up.

“So what’s your name,” Misfire strained to make himself heard. The music was loud and drowned the room. 

In the same, dark voice Misfire had revelled over earlier the mech replied, 

“Minimus Ambus. Yours?”

“M- Misfire. Can I call you Mini?” 

Incidentally, Misfire was pushing toward twice Minimus Ambus’s height. Even so, Misfire felt very small when Minimus Ambus flashed him a look as sharp as a cutting knife. 

“Minimus.”

“Okay.” They swayed against the beat of the music, Misfire’s awkwardness rose through his body making every limb clunky and stiff as he tried to think of something non-confrontational to say. Minimus Ambus also seemed to be thinking hard. He looked straight at Misfire’s chest, rolling his lips under his teeth and held Misfire’s hands with a very light touch. 

Misfire picked up his feet and stepped from side to side, searching for the rhythm in the song. Minimus Ambus barely moved at all. He just swung his arms back and fore, which meant, when the bright idea to spin Minimus Ambus developed in Misfire’s mind it inevitably went awry. 

He jerked Minimus’s arms higher suddenly and met resistance. Obviously Minimus Ambus did _not_ intend to move in the way Misfire envisioned. His feet were solidly glued to the floor. 

“Twirl?” Misfire encouraged. Still gripping Minimus Ambus’s hands high over his Minimus’s head. 

With a sigh, Minimus conceded and turned around in a very uniform circle. Each step was more of a stomp. When he returned to facing forward, Misfire had a very crocked smile on his face. Minimum Ambus noticed the smile waver and then, Misfire glanced over his shoulder. He was checking on his friends at the bar. 

Just as his neck turned, Misfire was tugged on, squeezed so tight against Minimus Ambus’s body his spine nearly broke. Misfire had no idea where such strength came from. Minimus Ambus had definitely won back his attention and since dancing obviously wasn’t winning him any favour, Minimus Ambus suggested going back to the bar. 

He took Misfire by the hand again, squeezing his fingers in a very tight grip and dragged Misfire to a point at the bar far from his Scavenger friends. At this angle, Misfire wasn’t even sure if they could see him anymore. 

Minimus Ambus ordered two of bubbly green concoctions Misfire had drank at the beginning of the night. Sounds of caution rang in Misfire’s audios, but fortunately, Minimus Ambus seemed more inclined to take his time with his drink rather than rush it all down his neck at once.

The lighting at the bar was dim and cosy, like a romantic electric candle light that made the ends of Minimus’s moustache glow warm orange. He reached out and touched Misfire’s hand. To give himself so extra height, Minimus sat on a bar stool while Misfire stood. 

“So what’s brought you here?” Minimus asked, polite and casual. A thin chuckle shook Misfire’s chest. 

“Just out with friends.”

“That all?”

“Well…mostly … this is sort of my initiation.”

“Initiation into what?” Minimus asked as Misfire took a sip of his drink. The liquid touched the top of his lip and the bubbles popped. 

“Well, basically I met them about a month ago - and a week before that was the first time I’d left Cybertron. I got into a bit of trouble with a federal officer - you might have heard of him, name’s Ultra Magnus - big guy, scary. Anyway! These guys saved my aft and well… here I am!” 

“Sounds _exciting_.” 

“Mm!” Misfire put his drink down completely, “Don’t get me started, these guys - they know how to live. Never a dull moment - they’ve got their own ship and everything!”

“Is that where you’re staying tonight?” 

Misfire blanched. The heat inside him had been cooled off somewhat by the ice in his drink, now it was rushing back to him. 

“Well…uh, yeah?”

Minimus Ambus smiled and Misfire found himself staring at his moustache again. Minimus curled his hand across Misfire’s waist and tugged Misfire onto his knee.

“Wouldn’t you rather come home with me?”

Misfire wasn’t entirely dumb, but for a moment the suggestion didn’t strike him as hard as his mystification over Minimus Ambus’sbizarre strength. 

He squirmed in Minimus Ambus’s lap, locked against Minimus’s chest where he felt the faintest sensation passion quiver in Minimus Ambus’s electro-magnetic fields. Misfire’s breath caught in his ventilation, when he looked into Minimus Ambus’s eyes he saw fascination, he fell for Minimus’s seduction. 

A prickle of exhilaration made Misfire giddy. He let Minimus lead him again. The grip on his hand even tighter his time. They left their empty drinks and the Scavengers behind. Misfire nodded to them on his way out of the bar, secretly glad that they’d seen him pull. He’d just certified himself as a legend among them for sure - the one that gets lucky. Misfire’s confidence beamed. 

All Minimus Ambus saw was an artless mech. 

Before their crossed the road together, Minimus Ambus looked left and right for the both of them. His hotel room was on the other side. 

“So, umm,” They’d just stepped out of the elevator and were in a corridor that would inevitably take them to Minimus Ambus’s room. Misfire’s nervous excitement was beginning to give him jitters, “ I don’t really do this often, I’m not saying you were thinking that, but I,” Misfire started to wonder if confessing he’d never ever kissed anyone before was the right thing to do. Despite what he’d alluded to with the Scavengers (daily) the reality of Misfire’s interfacing history was cleaner than his criminal record. He wondered if Minimus Ambus would notice that: his inexperience. Then another curiosity entered his mind - what would that moustache feel like when it pressed into his face… or anywhere else. 

A flurry of heat spun in Misfire’s cheeks again. He hoped Minimus Ambus wouldn’t bring up how sweaty his palms had become in the walk from the bar to Minimus’s bedroom. Misfire was desperately fighting to play it cool.

Room 103 was a cramped space. It boasted a tall ceiling for beings even larger than themselves, but the other dimensions of the room were frustratingly narrow.  

Misfire plodded over to the bed and sat down without being asked to. He tested it a few times, the springs creaked as he bounced up and down. 

“If you don’t mind,” Minimus Ambus said while fiddling with something on his wrist, “I have to use the restroom first.”

“Sure,” Misfire was happy to wait. It gave him longer to decide whether or not he was doing the right thing. The restroom door was adjacent to the entrance. After Minimus disappeared, Misfire threw himself backwards on the bed and felt it mould to his shape. Soft material wasn’t usually suitable for Cybertronians, but they were about to make and exception. 

Sighing heavily, Misfire scrubbed his hands down his face and tried to reason that nerves were normal. His fellow Scavenger’s weren’t far away and that thought gave Misfire some security. But Minimus was taking a long time and Misfire was edgy. Most mechs might have found a long absence concerning, but Misfire was relieved. It gave him more time to rifle around in the drawers of the hotel’s bedside table. 

The first draw held nothing of interest - a religious text and some pipe-cleaners for those hard to reach places. The contents of the drawer beneath that, however, made Misfire’s engine stall. 

It wasn’t the thick stasis-cuffs that made his spark bounce in his chest, those were creepy and kinky, but not his dominant concern. Next to the stasis-cuffs was something far more disconcerting. 

A badge gilded in gold. The embezzled text read:

 

 

U L T R A M A G N U S 

Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord  

 

 

 

Misfire’s optics grew out his head. In an instinctive effort to distance himself from the law, he slammed the drawer shut using too much force, it made a loud bang. 

“Everything okay?” Minimus Ambus called. 

Misfire’s head snapped up - he dreaded seeing Minimus Ambus reappear and every instinct in Misfire begged him to get out now - and fast. 

“Y-Yeah,” he spluttered. Wondering, as he so, so gently lifted his body off the berth, if he should have asked if Minimus was okay too... Was it suspicious that he didn’t ask? The moment was gone, it was too late to ask now!  
Despite being especially careful not to make another sound as he crept toward the exit, Misfire was overly aware of every sound in the room and to escape he needed to pass the bathroom door first, which was open slightly though he couldn’t see inside. 

Misfire gulped and held his breath, tip-toeing closer and closer to both doors, minding where he cast his shadow, and then, when he was positive he couldn’t get any closer without being spotted…Misfire bolted. 

A roar resonated from behind him. Misfire’s heavy footfalls had been noticed and a huge white hand stretched out of the restroom before Misfire could yank the exit door open. 

The hand closed over Misfire’s wing, trapping him in the room as more and more of _Ultra Magnus_ emerged from the bathroom. 

“ _What the frag is this?!”_ Misfire shrieked as he spotted features of Minimus Ambus buried between the huge swathes of red, blue and white metal. Minimus’s tiny head protruded from the middle of Ultra Magnus’s huge shoulders. 

“You’re under arrest!” Minimus, Ultra Magnus? _Someone_! Boomed and Misfire rapidly tried to thrash his way free. 

No - no, no! He’d only expected one thing to be taken from him that night and it _certainly_ wasn’t his freedom.

Misfire tried pushing Ultra Magnus away, but it was impossible, Magnus loomed into the room, the thick latches of his armour snapping closed and securing Minimus inside the humongous body. 

“This isn’t fair!” Misfire objected as he was steered away from the door, which Ultra Magnus now blocked. 

“That’s what the people you stole from said when I interviewed them.”

“But”- Misfire tried getting onto his knees, ready to beg, but Ultra Magnus’s firm hand still gripped his wing. 

They stared at each other. Misfire’s eyes widening and rounding with a huge, desperate craving for freedom. And when Ultra Magnus’s face remained steely and unperturbed, Misfire resorted to desperate action. 

He fired up the thrusters in his feet. The jets so powerful they burned holes in the dingy carpet and Misfire was propelled out of Ultra Magnus’s hand. He flew backwards so fast he blasted himself into the nearest wall, crashing into the bedside table along the way, and the little unit exploded on impact.

The contents, including the stasis-cuffs were spilt onto the floor. Misfire snatched them up, just as Ultra Magnus lunged for him with a growl. 

Being incensed blinded Ultra Magnus. The list of charges he’d reel off to Misfire in court grew and grew. 

The jet avoided him by hopping onto the bed and Ultra Magnus followed. Determined not to let Misfire escape, Ultra Magnus threw his weight on top of Misfire and tackled him.

They both hit the bed heavily. The springs in the mattress creaking and groaning. Anyone in the rooms next door was undoubtedly disturbed and Ultra Magnus dreaded recounting broken inventory to the hotel manager later when he checked out. 

“Got you!” Ultra Magnus breathed, naturally speaking too soon as Misfire was slippery by nature. He leaned his weight off Misfire and saw a smirk staring up at him just as he heard something ominous snap closed around his wrist. 

“ _Uhh_ ,” the stasis cuffs activated immediately and Ultra Magnus was sapped of his strength. The other cuff was clipped closed around the headboard, but Misfire couldn’t save himself from Ultra Magnus’s enormous body collapsing on top of him again. 

“Get off!” He wriggled and pushed at Ultra Magnus’s shoulders, but the armour was too heavy to budge.

“No! We’re staying here until somebody finds us.” 

“That could take hours!” 

“So be it.” 

Misfire continued to resist Ultra Magnus’s weight, but he was heavily pinned. The key to the cuffs was nowhere to be seen and even if it was within reach, Misfire was disinclined to use it and risk restarting the brawl. 

“Whelp!” Misfire drummed his hands on Ultra Magnus’s back and let his head hang over the edge of the bed. “ This was _about_ as close as I was expecting to get to you tonight, so…”

Ultra Magnus growled, a tirade frothed at his mouth, but it was interrupted. 

Someone’s knuckles wrapped against the door, every tap pushing it open a little more. 

“Room service!” Their voice was flighty and light - like a song.

“Assist me!” Ultra Magus roared, relieved that help had arrived so soon, “ I am in the process of apprehending a fugitive! Call your manager, un-cuff me and _do not_ let this mech escape!” 

Ultra Magnus’s head was weighed down by the sluggish effect of the cuffs, but his astonishment was so severe it jolted his whole body when the ‘hotel staff’ refused to help him. 

“Well, Misfire, you certainly know how to pick ‘em.”

From under Ultra Magnus’s body, Misfire jerked up. A smile of excitement grew across his face. 

“Guys!” 

“Yeah,” Krok continued, as he, Crankcase and Spinister surrounded the bed and gripped Ultra Magnus at varying angles, “we all knew you weren’t so slick that you could pull a guy with a moustache. On three everybody, one, two, three!”

As they heaved Ultra Magnus up, Misfire scurried from under him. Even with the three of them sharing the giant’s weight it was still a struggle to support him. As soon as Misfire was free, the dropped Ultra Magnus and his body thumped against the bed. 

“I’m warning you!” Bellowed the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, “Uncuff me _immediately_ or there will be consequences!”

“For you maybe,” said Crankcase as the free mechs sashayed toward the door, “have fun explaining this mess.” 

Despite the other Scavenger’s calls to Misfire stayed behind for a moment, and stood in front of Ultra Magnus, addressing the tiny head of _Minimus Ambus_ peeping out from the huge body. 

He thought about Minimus’s voice and his inexplicable strength and the thrill of almost kissing a mech with a moustache and decided to keep that memory and leave out the rest.

 

* * *

 

 

I met her in a club down in old Soho

Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry-cola 

See-oh-el-aye cola

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance

I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola

El-oh-el-aye Lola la-la-la-la Lola

 

Well I'm not the world's most physical guy

But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine

Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola

Well I'm not dumb but I can't understand

Why she walked like a woman and talked like a man

Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

 

Well we drank champagne and danced all night

Under electric candlelight

She picked me up and sat me on her knee

And said dear boy won't you come home with me

Well I'm not the world's most passionate guy

But when I looked in her eyes well I almost fell for my Lola

La-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

I pushed her away

I walked to the door

I fell to the floor

I got down on my knees

Then I looked at her and she at me

 

Well that's the way that I want it to stay

And I always want it to be that way for my Lola

La-la-la-la Lola

Girls will be boys and boys will be girls

It's a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola

La-la-la-la Lola

 

Well I left home just a week before

And I'd never ever kissed a woman before

But Lola smiled and took me by the hand

And said dear boy I'm gonna make you a man

 

Well I'm not the world's most masculine man

But I know what I am and I'm glad I'm a man

And so is Lola

La-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

 

 


End file.
